


Private Voices

by romanticalgirl



Series: Bring Him Home Again [2]
Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 5/25/00</p>
    </blockquote>





	Private Voices

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 5/25/00

“You’re listening to the wit of the airwaves, Ryan Wilson.” The announcer’s voice kicked in and Pacey breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes his misogynistic callers exhausted his patience. Verbal abuse worked on some of them, but there were others that it just…didn’t.

Sighing, he wondered if he had been that bad so long ago, when he used to actually participate in everything that went on in the world, as opposed to just commenting on it. He knew the answer to that though. He’d been as bad as she would let him be. She always kept him in line with her sharp wit, her verbal sparring, her intelligence, her bullshit detector.

The announcer’s voice started again and he shook his head, forcing himself to pay attention to his own show. As soon as the sound cleared, he laughed. "Okay, now that we've heard from the Neanderthal, what say we get someone a little more evolved on the line. Who’s this?”

“Jo…er, call me Potter.”

“Potter?” Pacey’s heart stopped. It couldn’t be.

“Yeah. No one’s called me that in a long time.”

“Okay.” Pacey closed his eyes, wondering what exactly he’d done in a previous life to have this one turn out quite so badly. “Potter it is. What do you have to add to this conversation?”

“It amazes me that men like him are at home alone on a Saturday night just before midnight. I mean, don’t they always say there aren’t any good ones left?”

Pacey grinned. God, he’d missed her. “That’s the rumor.”

“Well, if walking out on a man who has no respect for you and cheats on you with a – what did he call her? A bottled blonde that made a man want to come like a stallion? Well, if that makes a woman a stupid bitch, then sign us all up, would you? Because the last thing any woman needs is a man who is nothing more than an erection with legs.”

“Isn’t every man an erection with legs?” Pacey asked with a hint of a laugh, even though he knew she knew at least one man who wasn’t. “I mean, I think this show has given ample proof that, when it comes down to his brain or his penis, a man is never going to choose his brain.”

“Nice to know there’s hope for the human race yet.” Joey’s sarcasm crackled over the line. Pacey let himself wonder if she’d changed at all in the years since he’d seen her.

“Just one question, Potter. I’d hate to think any of my listeners would accuse me of playing favorites, so if you’re such a smart, enlightened girl,” he grinned at the world, knowing it would infuriate her. “Why are you home on a Saturday night before midnight?”

The irritation never came. Instead her voice seemed sad. “Didn’t you hear me? The good ones are all gone.”

 

~**~  
“All righty, we’ve heard from Jim on sex with minors, which I can only assume means the police are on the way to his house. We’ve heard from Claire on the reason why the men of this country are oversexed, which doesn’t explain France at all. So what do we have next, ladies and gentlemen? Are you going to let this last hour of the night fall by the wayside with nothing more to rest your weary head on than the thought of a country that worships Jerry Lewis?”

Judy, his producer, motioned to him and he nodded. “Who we got, Judy?”

“A voice from the past. Potter from last Saturday’s show.”

A voice from the past was right. Grinning, Pacey focused on the show at hand. “Potter. Talk to me.”

“I once knew a lady who had sex with a minor.” Her voice was silky smooth, like chocolate or cognac. “He was fully aware of what was going on. You could go so far as to say that he was hyper-aware of what was going on.”

“So it was something he wanted?” Pacey asked unnecessarily.

“Oh yeah. This boy had sex oozing out of him like a cheap tube of toothpaste.”

He laughed, aware of how true the description was. “Sounds like a typical kid to me. So, who did the chasing? Him or her?”

“A little of both. I wasn’t privy to all the details, but he wanted and he chased. She flirted and she nailed him.”

“Purely physical pleasure with an older woman?” Pacey growled softly, livening things up, even though he knew it had been a hell of a lot more than that. “I’m not finding this bad at all.”

“He was fifteen.”

“And she was?”

“His teacher.”

Realizing that Joey could say the wrong thing at any moment, a surge of panic welled up in Pacey’s chest. He signaled Judy and she scrambled for tape. “Really? Where was this?”

“It was sort of like that thing out in Washington, where the teacher romances the student. Only she didn’t get pregnant and they denied the whole thing. Nothing very newsworthy.”

His heart was hammering, afraid of whatever she might say next. If nothing else, Joey was excellent at speaking her mind. “Potter, we’re going to have to take a commercial break. Can you hang on the line?”

“Sure.” There was a soft lilt in her voice as she agreed and Pacey thought hard. It was a big country, a big city. Hell, in her world, he was dead. There was no way she could know it was him. Just because she had touched on a subject near and dear to his heart, it didn’t mean she knew it was him. To her, he was a disembodied voice, company through a lonely night.

“Potter?” He heard Judy talking to her. “We’re off the air right now. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t say anything that could be legally incriminating. Because you’re talking about something that goes outside the boundaries of the law, we could be in some trouble.”

“This happened years ago.” Her voice was dismissive. “Besides, how do you know it’s true? I could be making up stories for your horny listeners.”

Her voice was almost too much and Pacey couldn’t help but jump in. “Are you one of them?”

“One of what?” He knew she knew. He could hear it in that sultry tone.

“My horny listeners.”

“Tell you what, Mr. Radio Man, here’s my number.” She reeled off the numbers quickly as Pacey scrambled for a pen. “Call me tonight when you get home and find out.”

“We’re on in 30.”

Judy’s voice brought him back to the moment and he dropped the receiver to the cradle. Picking up his headphones, he waited for the telltale announcement to die away. “So Potter, are you going to tell us how this sordid tale ends?”

He thought of himself standing in front of Tamara, hoping that she’d see that he was sorry as he lied about their affair, remembered the feel of her in his arms as they finally said goodbye.

In the silence, he wasn’t sure if Joey had stayed on the line, even though the light was still lit. Finally, her voice came over the night air again. “He got what he wanted, she got to feel younger and wanted. They both walked away mostly intact.”

Mostly.

Pacey smiled and lied. “Now, why didn’t they have classes like that when I was in high school?”

“They probably did,” Joey said softly. “You just weren’t lucky enough to be enrolled.”

“That’s probably true. And that’s going to have to be the last of me for tonight. I’ll leave all you Benjamin Braddocks with visions of Mrs. Robinson dancing in your heads. And remember, if you have to ask if she’s seducing you, you’re just not paying enough attention. This is Ryan Wilson, signing off.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her face as she watched him finger the number he’d scrawled on a piece of paper. “And we’re clear.”

“Nothing’s clear, Miss Judy. Nothing at all.”

 

~**~  
The ride back to his apartment seemed to take forever. Joey’s phone number seemed to burn a hole in his pocket as his fingers played with the paper. He ached to call her, to hear her voice, even though he knew it was impossible. Calling her would open a Pandora’s box of emotions, none of which he could handle. He’d lived without emotion for the past seven years. He had no desire to go back to them now.

Christ.

He started to crumple the paper and toss it out the window, when he reconsidered. He’d been keeping his secret for this long, even living somewhat in the public eye. Surely he could handle it for the short time it would take to get her talking about all her old friends. He could find out what the people who had been his last friends were doing now.

“Here you are, sir.” Pacey jolted to attention and paid the cabbie. Just a short walk across the curb and a quick nod to the doorman and he was safely ensconced in the elevator. Swiping his card, he punched the penthouse button and closed his eyes. Once it was activated, the elevator wouldn’t stop for anything. Which gave him a few minutes of peace.

Peace which he couldn’t find so long as the very vivid image of Joey Potter was in his mind. He pulled the paper from his pocket and stared at the number. He’d written her name – Joey, not Potter – across the top. This was a one way ticket to danger and discovery.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped into the penthouse, not even noticing the sprawling view of the city below as he headed straight for the phone. He carried it to the bar and fixed himself a drink, pouring tequila over two cubes of ice. This was a bad idea.

Slugging it down, he poured himself another and looked at his watch then at the phone in his hand. He wanted to hear her voice again. He wanted to hear the smoky, rich, smooth sound before he went to sleep and lost himself in his dreams of her.

Without even realizing he’d dialed, Pacey lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

She laughed ever so softly. “No. I was waiting for you.”

“Really?” He ran a finger absently over the mouthpiece. “I suddenly feel like I’ve dialed a 976 number.”

“Not quite.” She laughed a little louder this time, a little huskier. “I didn’t know if you’d call.”

“I don’t believe you. Something tells me you knew I’d call.”

“Really?”

“Really. So, why me?”

“You seem to know a lot about the sordid side of life, so I tune in. I finally got up the guts to call when that idiot was on the air.”

“Why him? I’ve had a lot of idiots. Some would say I’m one of them.”

“I dated a guy once that had a thing for a woman or two like that. Not that the women were bad…well, one of them anyway. But I know how much it stings.”

“Did you walk away?”

“And you remind me of someone I used to know. The fifteen year old I was talking about.”

“Really? I remind you of a fifteen year old?”

“Well, you sort of sound…the way you say things, you make me think of him.”

“Whatever happened to him?”

“He died.” Joey’s voice turned sad, hollow. Was it wrong to take pleasure from the fact that she missed him, still mourned him?

“I’m sorry. Was he the one? With the women?”

“No. That was his best friend.”

“You never said if you walked away.”

“Are you alone?”

“What?”

“Are you alone, Mr. Radio Man? You must be.”

“Why is that?”

Even though she obviously didn’t know who he was, Pacey still expected her to call him by name, call him on the horrible bluff he’d perpetrated in her life. “Because othewise, you wouldn't be calling a complete stranger in the middle of the night?”

Because I’m in love with her still, he thought. Out loud he chuckled, “You have a point there.”

“So, why are you calling me?”

“You told me to.”

“So I did.”

“So tell me, Potter, why did you want me to call?”

“I wanted your voice all to myself.”

Pacey closed his eyes, the shudder of desire sending his eyes rolling back. “You don’t like sharing me with millions of listeners?”

Her breath seemed to catch for a moment as he said her name. “No. Besides, on the radio, you can’t say all the things I think are lurking behind that sarcastic wit.”

“What on earth would I be hiding?” He managed the question with a straight face.

“Don’t you ever want to tell one of those idiots off? Tell them to wake up to the real world?”

“Sure. Everyone does. But the listeners pay the bills and the FCC doesn’t like it when I go off on some vitriolic diatribe. They also don’t like it when I spew out a profanity or two, so I have to keep it safe for the sensitive listeners.”

She sighed. “I’m amazed at your control. I have a habit of…not controlling my temper, my opinions.”

“You managed to keep it together when you were on the air.”

“I was on for a few minutes. You’re on for hours.”

“I find that mocking them makes the time go by.” He took a sip of his drink.

“What are you drinking?”

“Are you psychic now?” He closed his eyes and pictured her, the small smile just lifting the edges of her lips, the lower lip caught between her teeth, the playful glint in her eye.

“I heard the glass against the phone. What are you drinking?”

“Tequila.”

“You’re a brave man,” she giggled. Oh God, save him from Joey Potter’s giggles. “And what are you wearing?”

Pacey swallowed hard. “Pardon?”

“Come on, Radio Man. Tell me what sexy thing is all the rage at the station these days.”

He could feel the blush struggling to heat his face in the onslaught of blood rushing to his groin. “Jeans. Jeans and a shirt.”

“Ooh. Wow. You’re a font of description. How tight are your jeans?”

“Getting tighter,” he admitted.

“Take them off?”

Pacey caught the groan before it escaped. This was not happening. He’d passed out drunk and was hallucinating. “Potter…”

“Please?”

His hand was fumbling with his belt before the word left her mouth. He held the phone between his cheek and shoulder so that he could use both hands to ease the denim apart. His erection strained against his boxers.

“Boxers or briefs?” Her voice was no longer joking; now it was laced with intent and desire and something Pacey couldn’t hope to identify. Maybe whatever it was that made a woman call a radio show, give the host her phone number and have phone sex with him. Maybe, if he let his imagination run wild, it was Joey Potter hearing Pacey Witter in his voice and wanting him. “Don’t answer. I’m going to guess boxers. Real boxers, nothing silk or satin. Soft cotton, stretched tight.” There was a brief pause. “Am I right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“What color?”

“Blue.”

“What kind of blue?”

“Dark. Like water in the ocean, way out at sea.” Blue like the water of the creek where I first fell in love with you, he thought.

“I can imagine what you look like right now.” Her voice was thick like honey as it swept over him. “You’re leaning against the couch, head thrown back. Your shirt is untucked, pants undone. Your cock is hard against the soft cotton. It’s aching to be touched, traced with a gentle finger. Will you touch it for me?”

He couldn’t help the moan this time. This was so deep in the realm of fantasy for him, so insanely wrong that he couldn’t resist. This was the very reason that he knew he was going to call her. Even if she didn’t know it was him, he knew it was her. And she was all he ever wanted. “Yes.”

“Trace it with just one finger. Pretend it’s me, prolonging the pleasure. Tracing the edge of your erection until you thrust upward, aching for my hand. Then I’ll smooth my hand over the hard surface, the soft covering of the cotton like heaven against my hand, but it’s not enough, is it?”

“No,” he admitted, his breathing hard and heavy as he did as she told him.

“I want to touch you.” Her voice seemed to drop impossibly low until it was no more than a breathy whisper. “I ease my hand under the material, pushing it out of the way so that I can take you in my hand, stroking your cock with short, smooth strokes until I get used to you. I can just imagine the feel of you, like velvet.”

Pacey eased his boxers over his erection then slid them and his jeans to the floor, letting them pool around his feet. Leaning back on the couch, he took hold of his cock and smoothed his hand down the length of his shaft, his thumb swiping across the leaking tip. He refused to think about how many times he’d done this himself without her voice guiding the way. His shoulder pressed the phone to his ear as his other hand moved down to the base of his erection. Closing his eyes, he could imagine her, her sultry voice matching her appearance.

Her dark hair fell like silk against his thighs, her full lips wrapped around his cock eagerly. Her hazel eyes, so knowing and… “Shit.” The highly charged erotic image was replaced with the sight of her kissing Dawson so willingly on the docks. His eyes snapped open and he dropped the phone. Fumbling for it, he tried to breathe. “I…I’m sorry. I have…I have to go.” He punched the phone off and stood up, tugging his clothes back on.

Guilt and lust warred within him. Grabbing the bottle of tequila off the bar, he carried it with him to the bathroom. Shedding his clothes, he took it into the shower stall and turned on the cold water. The liquor warmed him as the icy spray cooled the feverish heat her voice had suffused him with.

Joey Potter didn’t belong to him, didn’t belong in his life anymore. She belonged in the memories of Pacey Witter and in the arms of Dawson Leery.

He took a long hit off the bottle and sank down onto the floor of the shower. And he wasn’t either of those men.

 

~**~  
Pacey sighed and slipped the headphones on. He still felt hung over, even though he hadn’t had a drink since last Saturday night, the night he’d talked to her. Judy nodded at him, and he hit a switch on his board, listening to the last strains of his intro.

“Well, my fair listeners, here it is; another wild Saturday night and I’ve got a few questions for you. Tonight, we’re going to stray from the norm and have a theme. And, before you all start groaning and reminiscing about your high school prom, I promise that it’s nothin’ like ‘Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong’ or anything like that.”

He waited a beat for maximum impact. “Tonight we’re gonna talk about phone sex. Who does it, who likes it, why they like it, how much they pay for it, and all that good stuff. So, dial up that 976 and let me know. Who we got, Judy?”

“The screen’s ablaze,” Judy responded. “Here’s David.”

“David, talk to me, my friend.”

The night wore on, Pacey laughing at the myriad of stories and lies that came over the phone lines. He glanced up at the clock and was surprised to find the time almost up. A guilty sadness filled him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he had been hoping the topic would inspire her to call. He wanted to hear her voice again, and he hadn’t had the courage or the strength to call her again.

“All right, Judy. Just a few more. Who do you have for me now?”

“Willa, fresh from the phone lines herself.”

A soft contralto filled the studio and Pacey smiled. “Heelllo Willa.”

She laughed and started talking, her voice slipping back into its normal tone. “Ryan. So, you’re talking about phone sex. What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you just start talking and I’ll let you know when you’ve done your job?” He said it softly, not intending insult. “Or do you get that a lot?”

“Well, you’d be surprised. Sometimes they just want to talk. We call that the mother complex. They just want to talk and be soothed.”

“Do you like those best?”

“No,” she laughed. “They’re a little creepy. Especially when they switch over and want to talk dirty.”

Pacey shivered. “Yeah. I see your point.”

“But that’s not what you want to hear, right? You want to hear all the dirty little secrets?”

“Me?” Pacey feigned innocence. “I would never…”

“Yes you would. I imagine you have.” Willa chuckled and dropped her voice again. “You’d put the phone up to your ear, you’d breathe heavy, you’d moan right when I wanted you to.”

Pacey smiled slowly, his body feeling the effects of her voice. “I would, would I?”

“Oh yeah.” The soft sigh seemed to flood the studio and his nervous system. “And you’d ask me what I was wearing and I’d tell you, then I’d tell you what I’d do to you if I were there. Maybe curled at your feet, sliding up your legs, easing my hands along your thighs.”

Pacey swallowed hard. This was about to get out of hand. “You’d…you’d tell me all that?”

“Well,” Willa’s voice returned to normal. “You’d probably like that better than the truth, which is that I’m a 32 year old, mother of two, happily married and making money hand over fist…which you have to admit is a perfect way to describe it, don’t you?”

Pacey laughed out loud as Willa disconnected. “All right. Now, that’s what I call a good way to end the night. Unless you’ve got someone for me, Judy?”

“Potter on line two.”

Shaking his head, Pacey punched the button. “Hey Potter.”

“Hey.”

“What brings you back to the show tonight?”

“You’re addressing a topic near and dear to my heart.”

“We seem to do that a lot.”

“So I thought I’d throw in my two cents.”

“I like a woman who can’t keep her mouth shut.” Pacey laced the sentence with innuendo, picturing Joey’s face as she heard it.

“I’m not surprised. Most men do. Although they prefer it when there’s something stopping the stream of intellectual conversation she might utter.” She laughed, and Pacey had to admire the fact that she’d changed from the Joey Potter he used to know. “What I find so amusing is that men flock to these numbers by the credit card and yet studies have shown that men are far more stimulated by the physical and the visual. Women actually respond better to aural stimulation than men, yet you don’t see these numbers catering to women.”

“Would you call one that did?”

Silence hung in the air and Pacey raised his eyebrows. Joey Potter speechless? Impossible. “If I had to.”

“And you don’t. Have to, that is?”

“Not a public number,” she said the words with a grin, he could tell. “I find my own private ways…voices to relieve the pressure.”

“Private voices, hmmm?” Pacey took a deep breath and looked at the clock again. Two minutes. “So you wouldn’t care for a public voice to do something so bold as come on to you?”

“Are you volunteering?”

He was insane. “I’m just curious. You’d be unimpressed if I were to…say…ask you what you were wearing?”

“Jeans. Jeans and a shirt.”

“Button down shirt?”

“Yes.”

“And if I were to slowly unbutton it? Easing the material apart, button by button, planting soft, airy kisses on your skin after each one slipped from it’s fastening. If I were to breathe gently on your skin, heating it up with my lips? If I were to slide my tongue under your bra?”

“Y…yes?” she asked breathlessly.

“It’s that time, listeners. That’s going to have to be the last of me for tonight. I’ll leave all of you breathless with anticipation, aching for a little bit more. This is Ryan Wilson, signing off.”

Judy kicked on the announcer and fanned herself. “And we’re clear. Not to mention hot and bothered.”

Pacey grinned at her, wondering how long it was going to be before he could leave the studio without everyone knowing he had an erection. “Did I get to you, Miss Judy?”

“You always get to me, Ryan. I just hide it well.” She stacked their tapes and filed them away. “You gonna call your girl when you get home?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Potter. That wasn’t radio, Ryan. That was seduction.”

 

~**~  
Pacey stared at the phone in his hand as he sat down at his bar. Setting it on the counter, he sighed heavily and took a long pull from his beer. He’d thrown away her phone number after the first night, but the numbers were still etched in his memory.

After the few moments on the radio with her tonight, he wanted to call, wanted to let her smoky voice seduce him.

He wanted her. And wanting her was the one thing he couldn’t allow himself to do. Not now, not anymore.

Not now that she’d found her way back into his life.

Taking another drink of his beer, Pacey walked away from the phone, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

He set the beer on his dresser and stripped down to his boxers and undershirt. Heading into the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror.

This was the one thing that unnerved him. He ran his hand over his stubbled chin, listening to the rasp of hair on skin. No matter what he did – grew or cut his hair, colored it, grew a beard, gained or lost weight – his reflection was still Pacey Witter.

Pacey Witter, the non-existent man buried in an empty box back in Capeside.

His blue eyes stared back at him, devoid of answers. Devoid of anything but the desire he still had for her.

Seven years since he’d left Capeside, seven years since he’d seen her. Seven long and lonely years of loving the woman who had chosen his best friend.

The woman who wanted his voice all to herself.

With a quietly muffled curse, Pacey stalked over to his bed and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

Her voice was husky with sleep and guilt assailed him. “Potter?”

“It’s you.” Surprise and relief flooded her voice. “I’d almost given up.”

“Don’t give up on me,” he said softly, wondering exactly how much he meant the words.

“So talk to me, Radio Man,” Joey’s voice held a hint of a laugh. “Maybe finish what you started tonight?”

“What did I start tonight?” He used his free hand to tug his tank top over his head before settling back against his pillows.

Joey laughed huskily, the sound sending shivers of desire through him. “You started me thinking about what it would be like to have you do those things to me.”

“Would you like it if I did?” He shifted slightly and closed his eyes, picturing her; her dark eyes, her silken hair. “If I undressed you slowly, easing your clothes away from your skin until your body is bared to me, your breasts rising and falling with your breath, your nipples hard as I bend my head to capture one of them in my mouth.”

Joey’s breath caught, and Pacey grinned into the phone. His eyes remained closed, picturing her as she’d been so many years ago. Picturing her before they’d been found out, before everything had fallen apart. Her body so willing and compliant in his hands, against his mouth.

“I’d tease it, flicking my tongue over the hard nipple, sucking at it gently, worrying it with my teeth. You’d grab my head in an effort to beg for mercy and I’d relent for just a second until I could find the other one and torture you some more.”

“I’d run my hands through you hair, tugging at it,” Joey whispered. “You’d lift your head just a bit and I’d stare down into your eyes so that you’d know that I didn’t want you to stop. I just wanted to feel you against me even more, feel your lips on mine.”

He could hear her shift the phone and he could picture her so clearly. His body was tight with wanting her and he could feel his cock stiffening as he imagined her sliding out of her clothes. “I’d take off your shirt and run my hands down your chest. I’d feel your hard nipples and lift my head to suck on them for just a second until I heard your breath catch. Then I’d slide my hands around you and pull your body against mine, rubbing the hard tips of my breasts against your chest, letting the dark hair there tease the sensitive flesh.”

“I’d trail hot kisses down your stomach, then I’d slide between your legs, parting your thighs so I could taste you.”

Joey’s breathing was like fire in his veins. He could remember the taste and feel of her as if it were yesterday, the memory stark and clear in the sound of her arousal. “No,” she whimpered softly. “I wouldn’t let you have all the fun.”

He laughed softly, seductively. “I promise you’d enjoy yourself.”

“I want to taste you too,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “As you kiss your way between my thighs, I’ll be stroking the back of yours, my fingers massaging the strong muscles as I lean forward and slide my hot mouth around your cock.”

Pacey groaned, his hand easing his boxers over his hips and down his legs. Finished with that task, he gripped himself loosely. His hand was warm, but nothing compared to the heat he remembered in her kisses.

Joey listened to him breathing, just as hard and fast as she was herself. She closed her eyes, seduced by the picture in her head.

Ryan Wilson was no one to her, nothing more than a voice on the radio, but here, like this, she could lose herself in the man his voice reminded her of.

It was Pacey she wanted kissing her, touching her. Was it betraying his memory to fantasize about him like this?

“Your thighs feel like velvet as I stroke them with gentle fingers, coaxing them apart,” his voice broke into her reverie, bringing her back to him – whoever he was. “Your mouth urges mine to taste you. God, I want to taste you.”

Joey stopped caring if it was wrong. She imagined Pacey’s dark hair brushing her thighs as his tongue found her clitoris. Her own fingers touched the hard nub, matching his words with action.

“My tongue slips down…” Pacey closed his eyes and pictured her as she must look, sprawled out on the bed, satiny nightgown bunched up around her hips, her long, thin fingers buried between her legs. “And I slide it inside you, Potter, drinking you in.”

Joey shivered, her senses overloaded. She felt the first rush of orgasm rocket through her as he said her name. “Oh God,” she whimpered softly.

Pacey was shaking, his hand pumping furiously now as her release claimed her.

“Oh God, I want you inside me,” she said softly, pleading with him. “I want to feel you come inside me, feel you in my throat, feel you…” She broke off, her body trembling as she gave herself over to another orgasm. “Oh…”

Joey’s words, her voice, proved too much and Pacey groaned as his own climax came. His breathing stuttered as the hot rush coated his stomach. He finally stopped convulsing and let out a long breath. “You okay, Potter?”

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she couldn’t seem to find enough air.

“Potter?” He heard her sob and sat up. “Potter?”

“I’m…I’m okay," she insisted. “I just…goodbye.”

Pacey listened intently as she hung up on him, turning the phone off long after she’d disconnected.

 

~**~  
Pacey sat at his desk, staring at the newspaper, his mind elsewhere. Judy looked into his office forcing his eyes off the gray newsprint. “Yeah?”

“You in?”

“I’m here,” he replied vaguely.

“Because you have a call.”

“Call? Or a caller call?”

“Both.”

Pacey raised an eyebrow, not quite sure why Judy was even there. “You know as well as I do that’s not an answer. If they’ve called into the show, they’re a caller. Which means I don’t…”

“A Josephine Potter.”

“Close the door on your way out.” He took a deep breath then picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“He…hey, Radio Man.”

“Potter.”

The silence stretched for a long moment until she finally spoke again. “I owe you an apology.”

“No. No, you don’t.”

“I do. Because I’m not being fair to you. This…this whatever it is…it’s not about you.”

“I know that.” He laughed softly. “It’s about my voice. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.”

“You remind me of someone…”

“You used to know. And that’s who you see when you close your eyes, right?”

“Yes,” she sighed in relief. “And last night, I…I almost called you by his name. And…and I miss him so much.”

He could hear the hurt in her hesitation, and for the first time in a long time, the pain caused by what he’d done came back to him again. “What was his name?”

“I don’t…” Joey sighed and sniffed back tears. “Pacey.”

The sound of his name, the name he hadn’t heard another person speak in so long, make his breath catch. Tears stung his eyes and he fought for control. “An unusual name.” He took a deep breath. “Who was he? Old boyfriend?”

“Someone I loved,” she stated simply. “And I’m not being fair to you or his memory. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sadness tinged his words. “It was nice talking to you, Potter.” He hung up slowly, setting the phone quietly back in the cradle. Lowering his head to the desk, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His chest heaved with tears he refused to shed and the sound of her saying his name echoed in his mind.

 

~**~  
“All right.” Pacey’s normally boisterous voice was slightly subdued. Joey’s phone call lingered with him, even after two weeks of no contact. “The phone lines are open. Amuse me, would ya?”

He listened and laughed, letting the average stupidity of his listeners bolster his spirits. He could almost forget her, when he focused on using the sarcastic banter she’d helped him hone to humiliate his audience.

“Last caller,” Pacey noted, looking at the time. “And please, please have something halfway intelligent to say?”

He clicked on the lit line and took a deep breath. “You’re talking with Ryan Wilson, wit of the airwaves. What’cha got to say?”

“Hey, Radio Man.”

“Potter?” His voice caught and he cleared his throat. “Well, well, it’s the prodigal caller, folks. After a long absence, our very own smart lady has returned.” His heart was hammering in his chest. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You said you wanted intelligence.” He could picture her shrugging. “And with you hosting and the usual band of idiots calling in, I figured I was your best shot.”

“You can’t be too smart,” he reminded her. “You listen to me.”

“I have a strange sense of humor.”

“Apparently.” His mind was racing, trying to figure out why she was calling him. “So, you’re the last caller of the night, Potter, and we’re running low on time. What pearl of wisdom do you have for us?”

“Funny you should mention pearls, especially since I’m sure you’re familiar with their use in porn films,” Joey laughed softly. “I want to talk about orgasms.”

“Pardon?”

“Consider it a topic for your next show,” she suggested. “What does it? Who do you think about when you do it?” Her voice changed slightly. “Do you think about the one you’re with or someone else? And if it’s someone else, are you cheating? Doing the wrong thing?”

Pacey clicked her line silent, knowing she was finished. His on-air answer could very well change everything in his life. Why did all the life-altering moments revolve around sex?

Dropping his voice just enough to let her know the answer was for her, Pacey relied on the words that had changed his life for the first time, forever ago.

“Personally? I’m a firm believer in the fact that sometimes it’s right to do the wrong thing.”

 

~**~  
Pacey waited until Judy gave him the clear signal before picking up the receiver. “You still there?”

“Against my own better judgement, yeah.”

“You wound me, Potter.”

“Will you call me tonight?”

He took a deep breath. This was his opportunity to walk away one more time, mostly unscathed. All he needed to do was say no. “Give me an hour?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“So will I.”

 

~**~  
Pacey stared out his window, looking at the city sprawled below him. He held the phone in his hand, but had yet to dial her number.

Once again, Joey Potter had gotten under his skin. And with just a few conversations, he’d managed to lose himself in the same emotions he’d forsworn the day he’d left Capeside. Loving her was the last thing he’d ever done as Pacey Witter. And he was apparently destined to do it no matter who he became.

Or whether he was alive or dead.

He punched in her number and waited while the phone rang.

“Hello?”

He couldn’t help grinning. “What are you wearing?”

“Sweats, a hockey jersey and a facial mask.”

“Careful Potter, you’re turning me on.”

“That’s my cunning plan.” She chuckled warmly. “So, facial masks turn you on?”

“You turn me on, Joey.”

“What did you call me?”

Fuck. Pacey flinched at his mistake. “You called the station. You said your name was Josephine.”

“That’s a long way from Joey.”

“You sound like a Joey.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “Sorry.”

“No. It’s okay. My friends call me Joey.”

“But he called you Potter?”

“Well, he called me lots of things, not all of them complimentary. But whenever he was trying to sweet talk me, he’d call me Potter. No, actually, he called me that when I pissed him off too.”

“Sounds like you guys had a volatile relationship.”

“Volatile. That’s a good way to describe me and Pacey.”

Her voice ran through his blood. “Maybe this isn’t the best thing, Potter.”

“No. I…it’s okay, Ryan. I know that it must be awkward for you, but this isn’t about him…about Pacey.”

“It’s about a man you barely know?”

“It’s about the way your voice makes me feel.” Joey swallowed hard. “What it does to me.”

“What does it do?” The comment came out a low, sexy rumble.

“You turn me on,” she said softly. “So talk to me, Radio Man.”

“You gonna strip off that facial mask?”

“Consider me stripped,” she offered. “Consider me lying here naked and wanting you, Ryan.”

“I want to meet you.” The sound of his pseudonym forced the words from him.

“What?”

“I just…I want to meet the woman who calls a radio show and comes on to the host.”

“I don’t know that…”

“Potter? I don’t want anything else from you. Maybe coffee. Nothing more.”

“And we’re just supposed to pretend that we haven’t been giving each other orgasms?”

“Well, if you’re as gorgeous as you sound, I might be willing to remember.”

“I don’t…”

“All right, Potter.” Pacey sighed. “I’ll be at Pier 42 at three, tomorrow afternoon. I want to meet you.”

“And how would I know it was you?”

“You’ll recognize my voice.” And more, he thought silently. “How am I going to know it’s you?”

“I’ll be wearing a black windbreaker.”

“So will the other 8,000 folks on the pier.”

“It says Capeside PD on the back.”

Pacey coughed. “You’re a cop?”

“No. It…Pacey’s brother gave it to me a long time ago. And it’s the most recognizable thing I own.”

“All right Potter, the non-cop. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“But…”

“Goodnight, Joey Potter.” He hung up, a smile on his face. It faded quickly as he realized what he’d just done, just arranged. “Oh fuck.”

 

~**~  
Pacey sat at his bar, nursing his drink. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t done anything but think and drink. The phone sat on the bar, reminding him of the monolith in the movie, 2001.

He fingered the slip of paper on the bar. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to imagine the conversation the paper would lead to.

“Hi Mom. It’s Pacey. Guess what? I’m alive.”

He took another drink, the whiskey burning his throat. Seeing Joey would require letting everyone in his old life know that he was alive.

Admitting he ran away.

Facing up to the fact that he’d lied to everyone he loved.

He poured more whiskey and looked at the picture he’d unburied before he’d started drinking.

Him, Joey and Dawson.

The three of them, before emotion got in the way and ruined everything, before he’d bared his heart and soul and watched her walk away.

Straight back into Dawson’s arms.

Another drink. Pacey carried the glass over to the window, watching the sun rise. He lifted his glass and toasted the city before turning away. Walking into his bedroom, he set the glass on the dresser and headed for the bed.

Sitting on the edge of it clad only in his T-shirt and boxers, he buried his head in his hands.

In less than twelve hours, he was going to see Joey Potter and admit he was alive.

And Joey Potter was going to kill him.

 

~**~  
Joey leaned on the railing along the pier, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her windbreaker. She stared out at the boats, her mind continually straying to the man she used to wait for by the docks, the man who never came home to her.

Pacey was never coming home.

Instead, she was going to have coffee with a complete stranger. A complete stranger she’d been having really amazing phone sex with.

Taking a deep breath, she stretched her arms out over the water and leaned forward, resting her head on her biceps.

Pacey stood in the shadows of the nearby building watching her. He’d been there for almost twenty minutes, just staring at her. She looked so different than he expected. Not that she’d really changed all that much – her hair was a little shorter, her skin not quite the same golden tan, but she seemed much older than the seven intervening years should have made her. There was something in the way she carried herself that made her seem…hurt.

He wondered if he’d done that to her.

It was almost funny to think that. Funny to think that he could ever have that much power over Joey Potter. Only one person ever affected her that deeply, that much. Maybe it was just the weight of the jacket she wore, at least two sizes too big for her. He wondered why Doug had given it to her, wondered why she continued to keep it.

She leaned forward and dropped her head and he felt the overwhelming urge to walk up to her and push the hair back out of her eyes.

He wondered if she was chewing on her bottom lip.

A slow, burning ache started in his chest and he took a step forward. Do it Pacey, he told himself. Just walk up to her and say 'Hey Potter', and get this melodrama started. He wondered what she’d say, what she’d do. Would she turn around and faint? Nah, not Potter.

Would she hold him?

The thought of her wrapping her arms around him sent a different kind of heat through him. Even in the wake of their more erotic phone calls, when he thought of her, he thought of the last time she’d kissed him – they day they’d christened True Love. Her body hot and hungry in his, her mouth finding his over and over, her hands and his hands, exploring each other.

He wanted to feel her hands again.

Of course, he probably would. When she slapped him.

He took another step forward, wondering when he’d lost all of his courage, all his bravado. He just needed to go up to her, they’d start over, they’d talk, they’d forgive, they’d…

Pacey stopped as the sun came out from behind the cloud it had shifted under just a moment before. His heart stopped roughly when his feet did and he swallowed hard. Without a word, without another thought, he turned and hurried away.

Joey heard the distant church bells chime and knew without glancing at her watch that it was three. Lifting her head, she took one last glance at the water then turned around. Her eyes searched the crowd, looking for someone who might be a radio host. Looking for someone who might be looking for her.

She sat there on the dock waiting until the sun went down. Taking comfort once again in the coat Doug had given her years ago on a dock much smaller than this, she sat there waiting until the sun went down.

 

~**~  
The phone was ringing when she finally got home and she picked it up, about ready to launch a diatribe as soon as she heard his voice. “Hello?”

“Is this Joey Potter?”

She bit her lower lips. “Close enough. Who’s this?”

“My name is Judy. I work at the radio station with Ryan?”

“Right. Hello.”

“Could you come down here for a bit? He asked me to give something to you. He says it will explain his absence today. And, he hopes, make up for it just a little.”

“Where is it?”

Judy gave her directions and told her where to meet her. “I’ll be in the lobby waiting.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.” Joey hung up the phone and shrugged off the black jacket, hanging it in the back of her closet. She grabbed a different one, one that fit her better, grabbed her keys and left the house.

Leaving the radio off, not wanting to hear his voice when his show came on, Joey drove in silence. She parked where Judy had suggested and entered the lobby. There was a woman standing by the desk and she headed toward her.

“Judy?”

“You must be Joey.” She looked down at her hands and nodded. “Yup. Here you go.”

Joey took the envelope she handed to her and shook her head. “He wrote me a letter?”

“He said you’d understand once you opened it.”

“Am I supposed to read it here?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Joey looked at the plain white paper in her hands and chewed on her lip. “Thank you. Tell him…Well, I don’t know what you should tell him just yet, do I?” She laughed harshly. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself. Could I…Do you have his home phone number?”

“I’m not supposed to give that out,” Judy said cautiously. “But I think you’re safe enough.” She grabbed a pen off the desk and wrote it on the envelope. “Just don’t tell him where you got it. Not that he won’t figure it out, but I’ll trust you to be my alibi.”

Joey managed a smile. “Thanks, Judy.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and headed back for the elevators. “It was nice meeting you.”

Joey stared after her as she disappeared, nodding. Shoving the envelope in her coat pocket, she hurried back out to her car and started the long ride home. She wanted to read it. She wanted to find out what he had to say, what excuses he had for not showing up. But she also wanted to be near a phone so she could humiliate him on his own radio show.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, she sat in the car and pulled the envelope out. It was slightly crumpled, the smooth white lines destroyed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning the envelope over and opening it.

A single piece of paper slid out and Joey unfolded it slowly, a mixture of joy and dread coursing through her as she saw the familiar handwriting.

“You grew up and got even more beautiful than I could ever dream.

I knew it was you, Potter, just like I know that it’s Dawson’s ring you’re wearing. No other woman could make me feel so bad and so good all at once.

I’ve been searching for someone else to do that for me for seven years, but it seems that I didn’t leave True Love lying in ruins on the beach. I left it in Capeside.

I left you in Capeside.

And I guess I’m leaving you again.

Pacey."


End file.
